Chapter-32 Father (Part 1)

Maximus

I inhaled and exhaled deeply as I stood outside the double doors. In the twenty-nine years of my life, there haven’t been many situations that made me nervous. But this…this gets me every time. I shook my head and then knocked twice before opening the door and walking inside.

He looked up from the stack of papers on his desk, and his bluish-gray eyes met mine with the usual cool grace. That was all the excitement I got from him every time I got a chance to visit.

“Ciao, papà, “ I murmured, shutting the door behind.

“Maximus,” he stood up as I walked over to hug him. And even at 82, he was sturdy as hell. Not a muscle out of place.

Drago Lazaro Barbaro was the formidable head of the Barbaro family and the most feared leader within the Calabrian ’Ndrangheta—the most powerful mafia organization not only in Italy, but across the globe. The Sicilian mafia clan, dominated by the Ammassari and Baldocchi family, were just a speck in the vast territory that the Calabria 'Ndrangheta clan controlled, aka the Barbaro family controlled.

Drago Barbaro was ruthless. There was no other word for him. No adjective could fully capture the cold brutality he embodied. Cross him, and you'd find yourself praying for the Devil to take you—because death at Drago’s hands was far worse. He knew every savage, unthinkable method to end a life, and he never hesitated to use them.

The Barbaro family was feared across continents, the kind of enemy no one dared to provoke. Even the mightiest mafia factions—the Sicilian Cosa Nostra, controlling Sicily and Palermo, and the Camorra, controlling Naples and the greater Campania region treaded carefully. No one wanted to cross paths with the ’Ndrangheta.

No one wanted to cross Drago Barbaro.

“Finally, you find the time to see your old man,” he said, scanning me from head to toe.

“You know what I am working towards,” I said. “It has kept me preoccupied.”

“Hmm.” Drago nodded slowly, lighting one of his trademark cigars. The flame danced in his eyes as he took a long drag. “What’s with that girl you’re so interested in these days?”

How the fuck does he knows?

“Gianna Ammassari Baldocchi,” I said. “Leonardo Ammassari’s little sister. Nicholas Baldocchi’s wife. She’s the bridge holding both families together.”

He exhaled a stream of smoke, eyes narrowing. “And how exactly does that tie into what you’re working toward?”

“She’s a pawn, father.” I shrugged. “Two birds, one kill. Leonardo would bleed for her. We can make him dance however we want. That girl is leverage.”

Drago leaned back, his expression unreadable. “I wasn’t aware Leonardo Ammassari was our concern at the moment.” His voice was calm, too calm—the kind that made lesser men sweat. “What are you really after, Maximus?”

“You can trust me,” I said, holding his gaze. “The Baldocchis’ are already crumbling. They’ve suffered loss after loss. I’m doing exactly what needs to be done to end them. Gianna… she’s just another layer of destruction—one that cuts deeper. One that breaks Nicholas Baldocchi from the inside out.”

He tilted his head, studying me with those cold eyes of his. The silence stretched between us and I knew he was trying to peer into my fucking soul and sniff out any signs of weakness or…betrayal.

“And what makes you so certain?” he finally said. “Anything that ever involved a woman… ends in ruin. You know that.”

“This won’t.” My voice was steady. “Gianna is the last flicker of light Nicholas has left. He’s already hollow, crawling through shadows, pretending to still be a king. And she— I paused, choosing the words that would make Drago understand. “She’s the one thing that might save him. So I’m going to take her.”

His brow lifted slightly. Still unconvinced.

“She’s his backbone, father.” I leaned forward. “I’m going to snap it in half. I want him to feel that suffocating emptiness. That pitch-black silence when everything you love is ripped away. I want him to understand what it means to be truly alone. Like I was.”

The room fell into a heavy stillness and I pushed down the terrifying memories that started to crawl up the dark corner in my chest I keep them closed in.

“He’ll have no pride left. No legacy. And no hope for a future. When I’m finished…” I smiled coldly. “Nicholas Baldocchi will envy the dead.”

“Hmm…” Drago leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest, his eyes narrowing. “I couldn’t give less of a fuck about your little revenge plot, Maximus. The only reason I’m letting you play at this is because of your promise. Sicily. Those fuckers have had enough free reign. Now, only one clan will rule this country, and that’s the Barbaro clan. So do whatever the hell you want with that girl, get your revenge on Nicholas, but remember what’s important—I want Sicily. You understand?”

“And you’ll have it,” I said, my voice steady. “I’ve never failed you, father. Have I?”

“No,” he muttered, dragging in a breath from his cigar. “And that’s why you still have the liberties you do. Because it’s you.” He looked at me then, those cold, ruthless eyes locking on mine.

“But you know me, Maximus. Failure isn’t something I tolerate. Not ever. And I’ll be damned if I let it start now. You’re not some fucking businessman, the way the world thinks of you. You’re Maximus Drago Barbaro… the heir to this empire.”

He leaned forward, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “It’s time you sat on your throne. I let you play around with those ridiculous drawings and that farce of a business just for the alibi it gave you. But now, the world is ready to see who you really are. You need to come back. There’s only so much longer I can hold up this empire on my own.”

“You do just fine on your own, father,” I replied, but there was no hiding the tension in my voice. “You’ve got more years in you yet.”

He gave me a look in response to that and shook his head.

“No, I don’t.” His voice dropped to something darker, more grim. “Stage 4 pancreatic cancer. It’s spreading fast. No cure. I’m just buying time now.” He looked away briefly, almost like he was considering something.

“But before I go, I want my legacy in the right hands—your hands. I’ve got more enemies than a fucking country, and if word gets out that I’m weak…” He exhaled, blowing out a cloud of smoke. “Well, people like to kick you when you’re down. I’m not letting that happen.”

I blinked at him, not sure what to say. Should I be shocked, which I was, or should I console him? But what could I even say? We didn’t have a typical father-son relationship anyway.

“You’ll be fine. I’m sure there are better doctors out there,” I muttered. “I will find the very best doctor for you…”

“I don’t want you to,” he said flatly. “I have lived enough and now am ready to be done with it. But not until I know my legacy is safe and Sicily is under my fucking feet. You need to stop playing whatever game you’re playing, get this job done and then take charge. And you fucking need to find a suitable bride and get married. The family needs an heir too.” I grimaced at the thought but kept that to myself.

“Yes, father,” I nodded. “I won’t fail you.”

“Good,” he nodded, lighting another cigar. “Now, what do you plan to do with the girl? Kill her?”

“I don’t hurt women and children, you know that,”

“Fuck her?” he grinned.

“Maybe,” I shrugged. “She’s just a collateral damage. Once I’m done with Nico…well, we will see.”

“Fucking your brother’s wife…that’s dirty,” he laughed. “But I like it.”

“He is not my brother,” I hissed, the mere idea leaving a disgusting taste in my mouth. “I am your son.”

“Yes, you are,” he smiled. “And you fucking make me proud. Now go…dinner is in an hour, and a lot of important people are coming. You better be there. And there is a gift waiting for you in your room.”

“What gift?” I frowned.

“You’ll see,” he said, and his tone was dismissive enough to hint that this conversation was over.

“See you at dinner,” I said and turning on my heels, walked out.

There was that familiar throbbing pain in my temples again. It comes up every time father talks about me taking charge of the family. And how the fuck could that man have cancer? He barely ever had a cold. I shook my head and headed up to my room. This wasn’t where I lived, though. It has never felt like home. Not even when I was brought here twenty-two years ago.

“Hello there, handsome.”

I blinked at the sultry voice the moment I opened the door, and immediately grimaced. Oh, for fuck’s sake.

So this was his idea of a gift.